The Wrong Idea
by 197469793497
Summary: Simon knows what he and Baz are to each other. At least, he thinks he does. Sometimes. Either way, it's not what everyone else seems to keep assuming. Baz is just that annoying roommate he keeps getting stuck with. Isn't he? (Continuation of an extract of the same name in the book)


Nothing was going right.

They'd been attacked by a _venomous crested woodfoul._

And then they'd hidden in the cave with the _spiders_ and the whatever-that-thing-was that had bitten Simon's tennis shoe, _possibly a rat_.

And then Baz had taken Simon's hand. Or maybe Simon had taken Baz's hand... Anyway, it was totally forgivable because _woodfoul_ and _spiders_ and _rats_.

And sometimes you held somebody's hand just to prove that you were still alive, and that another human being was there to testify to that fact.

They'd walked back to the fortress like that, hand in hand. And if would have been okay - _it would have been mostly okay_ \- if one if them had just let to.

If they hadn't stood there on the edge of the Great Lawn, holding on to this little bit of each other, long after the danger had passed.

Eventually, the cold seeped through their cloaks, and Simon started down the hill, dragging Baz behind him. Without speaking. And without acknowledging that Baz's hand was still firmly clasped around his.

Because he still wasn't sure exactly what was going on with _that._

Not that he was unhappy with it. Baz was warm. Warmer than he'd expected a vampire to ever be. And strangely comforting. And almost _safe_.

"Snow." Baz was staring with a strange intensity at the heavy wooden doors that opened to Watford. As if simply glaring at them enough would cause them to move. Or maybe he was just avoiding looking at Simon. "How exactly do you propose we get in?"

Simon shrugged, stepped forward, and twisted the handle experimentally.

Nothing.

"Did you _seriously_ think that would work?"

"I thought it was worth a try."

"That door has been locked every night for the past five years."

"Well, tonight might have been the one they forgot. Never know."

"You're an idiot." Baz snarked, and squeezed his hand tighter.

Simon didn't disagree

"So." Baz spoke again after a few seconds. "Any better ideas than trying the locked door?"

"Not really. You?"

"Of course. I'm the smart one."

"What does that make me?"

"The pretty one."

Simon blushed. And silently berated himself. Because _what on earth_ was going on? Why was Baz complimenting him all of a sudden? What-

"Come on." Baz pulled him sideways, away from the door. Towards one of the many shadowy archways in the walls of Watford.

More caves. _Wonderful_.

They plunged in, instantly swamped by darkness. Simon tripped over within five seconds, ripping his hand from Baz's.

"Need a light, Snow?"

"Um..." He pushed his pride down. "Yes please."

"For Crowley's sake." Baz spat, though he didn't sound quite as irritated as normal. Simon heard the swish of his wand, and then the muttered words. " _Let there be light_."

A small beam lit up the end of the wand, no bigger than a lightbulb. It only cast a dim glow over the cave, but it was far better than the absolute blackness of earlier.

"Thanks." Simon used the wall to pull himself to his feet, rough brick digging into his palms. "What even is this place?"

"It's part of the catacombs."

"Oh." Simon looked around again, paying more attention to pattern of the walls and the water dripping for the ceiling. "How do you know about it?"

"Long story." Baz snapped, and Simon was suddenly, unpleasantly reminded of the distance between him and the dark boy.

And then Baz took his hand again.

 _Crowley, was he_ trying _to mess with his head_?

They stumbled on through the gloom, twisting and turning as the passage wound its way under the school. Occasionally they came to a turning, and Simon was impressed (though not surprised) by Baz instantly knowing which way to go. Baz knew _everything._

Some time later, they found theirselves in a small room, closed on three sides. The fourth led back to the corridor they'd just come along. Seeing the dead end, Simon began to back away, thinking that they'd taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, but Baz didn't move.

"Baz." He whispered, unwilling to mention the mistake and risk anger. "We've gotta go and find another way out."

"Quiet, Snow. I'm thinking."

"Oh." _Baz needs to think_? That was a first.

They lapsed into silence.

It was a few minutes before Baz gave a triumphant yell. He stepped forward and rested his wand on the wall. " _Every doorway, every intersection, has a story_."

"Baz-"

Simon was cut off as the bricks in front of them started to separate, shifting slowly to the side and leaving a narrow gap between. Baz grinned as he watched. "I don't normally come out this way, so I couldn't remember the password." He explained. "But this was the quickest path back into the school. And I'm cold."

A archway formed in the wall, big enough for them to slip through. Baz pulled Simon after him as he darted through, spinning back to tap the wall again. The rock slid back into place within seconds, leaving no trace that they'd ever been disturbed.

Simon glanced around for a few seconds before realising where they were. "The library?"

"Yep." Baz leant against the wall, smirking.

"But I've been here so many times. How come I've never seen-"

"Don't lie, Snow, you barely ever come in here. It's 'dull and smells of rotting paper.'"

"Well." Simon blushed. "Still. How come I never heard about it?"

"Because it's a secret, dummy. The teachers sealed up most of the passages to the catacombs. The only reason this one survived was because even they didn't know about it."

It was on the tip of Simon's tongue to just ask the question again. To ask how Baz had discovered a place so well hidden, even the professors of magic - _even the Mage_ -didn't know about it. But before he could, the voice piped up behind him.

" _Simon_?"

Baz's eyes widened, and his hand shot away from Simon's, quicker than he would have thought possible. Quick enough to hurt, actually. A bright red stain spread across both his hand and his cheeks.

Slowly, shamefaced - though he wasn't quite sure what for - he turned around.

Penny stood between two rows of shelves, a stack of books piled against her chest.

"Um... _Hi_?" He tried to sound casual - and failed miserably.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. But not like she wanted an answer - that wasn't how Penny worked. She just kept you talking until she was able to figure out the solution for herself.

"I..." He glanced over his shoulder. At Baz, standing to attention by the wall, then at his hand, and then back to her. "I was... Studying?"

"With no paper."

A pause. "Yes."

"And no pens."

He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Stared at the ground. "Yes."

"And no books."

Crowley. "Um... Yes."

He risked a look at her face. And he managed to catch the moment when the parts of the idea clicked together in her head.

"Oh." She grinned slightly, shifting the books higher in her arms. " _Oh._ I see."

"See what?" Simon stared, bewildered.

"It's fine, Simon. I won't tell anyone."

"Won't tell them what?"

Her eyes flickered to Baz, then back to his confused face. And then he was sure, if she'd been paying attention, she'd have been able to see the idea come together in his head. _That him and Baz were..._

"No, Penny, that's not... We're not... You've got completely the wrong idea, Penny!"

"I'm sure I have." Her smile got even wider. "It's late. You guys should go to bed."

And with that, she turned and walked away. Positively bouncing with excitement.

And with _absolutely_ the wrong idea.


End file.
